


Galanthus (the mailbox remix)

by frausorge



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Remix, Unrequited Love, Vegas Golden Knights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 22:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: Five things Flower didn't send Sid from Las Vegas, plus one he did.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sebfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Galanthus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259473) by [sebfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish). 



> Many thanks to Lovelypoet for beta reading!

Flower called Sid from the hub port just after his first hop. Sid had marked the date of Flower's arrival on his calendar and stayed indoors to be ready. The image transfer was rippled and laggy, but nevertheless, there on the pane was Flower, his dear familiar face still framed by the haircut they had all had two years ago. 

"Sid!" he said. "How are things, my friend?"

Sid smiled. "We're doing all right. Decent harvest last year, and we didn't lose anyone over the winter. Geno's oldest is starting to read." 

"That's wonderful news," Flower said. "Wait—did you say his oldest?"

"Oh! Yes, they had another baby. Four months old now."

"I'm so happy for them," Flower said. "Tell Geno congratulations from me." 

"I will. But tell me about you," Sid said. He paused, trying to figure out what there was to ask. "Uh. Are you super jumpsick?"

Flower waved a hand. "Not bad, not bad. This one was short, you know." 

"Yeah," Sid said. He knew it was true, compared to the jump still to come, but the thought of the whole two years of Flower's absence struck him suddenly and he couldn't stop his mouth from twisting.

"Sid? Are you all right?"

"I just miss you," he said.

" _Sid_ ," Flower said. The pane still showed him with his eyebrows raised, but his voice was gentle and concerned.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I know," Sid hurried to say. "I'm fine."

"I'm sending you something," Flower said, and the pane synched again so Sid could see the tilt of his head, the warmth of his eyes. "From here, so you'll get it soon. Sooner," and then his mouth quirked too, just for a moment. "Take good care of it, all right?"

"Of course." 

Flower glanced aside as the call timer chimed, then turned back and gave Sid a grin so bright Sid couldn't help but smile back. "I have to go. Give everyone my love." 

Sid nodded. 

"Goodbye, Sid."

"Goodbye," Sid said.

 

Sid didn't make another mark on his calendar, but it wasn't like he really needed that to make him think of Flower. He started paying extra attention to the incoming shipments when another two years had gone by. Sure enough, within four weeks of the two-year mark he got a notice from Mike to pick up a personal package. Sid took it back to his rooms to unseal it. When he finally had all the layers of insulation unwrapped, there were a dozen small flower bulbs in front of him. 

Sid passed his hand over them, just barely touching in case they were temperature-sensitive. They felt cool and flaky under his palm.

He started them in a portable indoor trench, keeping them covered and moist. In the fall he put them into the ground in the shade of the evergreen Flower had planted behind the mess. In the spring Sid watched till the first green stems poked up above the ground; till the stems grew buds; and till the buds opened into delicate white flowers. The flowers were beautiful.

The storms were bad the next winter, but the flowers survived and even multiplied. Sid counted maybe twenty stems the following spring, and even more the year after that.

 

The year of the flood, late in the summer when they were trying to salvage what they could from the waterlogged fields, Sid got a text transmission. He hadn't forgotten—that wasn't possible—but the prolonged struggle to protect the crops had pushed the date to the back of his mind. He drew in a startled breath when Flower's name appeared on his pane.

The message was short. Flower probably shouldn't have spent as much as he had to send it, but Sid wouldn't have reproached him even if he'd had the chance. _Arrived safe. Training done, work starts tomorrow. Love to all._

Sid read it over and over again, and then he called Geno and Tanger in to see it too. Tanger brought a bottle, and they took turns proposing felicitations to Flower's success in his new job in wilder and wilder terms till late into the night. Finally they staggered back to their own rooms, laughing. 

Before he fell asleep, Sid wondered if Flower would cut his hair now that it was growing again. He wondered how people wore their hair on Nevada.

 

There was a great clattering in the passage, the only warning before Geno's granddaughters burst into Sid's room. 

"Uncle Sid! Uncle Sid! Look what just came!" Irina extended her hand, clutching a battered gray air-sealed bundle. "For you! Who's sending you a package, Uncle Sid?"

"Well, let's see," Sid said. He held the package up to his pane, and after a minute—the pane was old by now and rather slow, but it still suited him fine—the tracking appeared: _Marc-André Fleury_.

Sid blinked hard.

"Fleury? Who's that?" Irina said.

Sid bit his lip. "A friend of mine. Someone who used to work here with us. He got conscripted a long time ago, before your mother was born."

"What's in it? Open it!" Sofia said. So Sid did, calculating as he lightened the seal. Flower must have sent the package within his first year on Nevada, for it to reach Pennsylvania already. Sid hardly knew what to make of that. Inside the layers was a rock, dusty yellow and thin with a bit of a curve to it, like a cupped palm.

 _A piece of the garden here for you,_ Flower had written in the message space on the tracking. _All my love._

"'Gar-den'? It's for the garden?" Sofia said, trying to parse the message. 

"Yes," Sid said; it might as well be. "Let's go put it there now."

The flowers hadn't started blooming yet this spring. Sid picked his way carefully across the field with his cane, trying to step on as few stems as possible. Sofia barged ahead, totally unconcerned. Sid winced, but of course more flowers would grow back for any that got crushed. 

"Here's a good spot, don't you think?" he said when they got close to the central evergreen. He nestled the rock into the dip between two of its roots. The yellow of the rock stood out sharply against the greens and grays of the field. 

The next week the weather grew warmer, and the rock disappeared underneath a sea of white.


	2. 2

"I just miss you," Sid said. 

"Sid," Flower said, low and regretful. "You know I'd still be there if I could. I loved playing hockey with you. But I have other obligations."

"Which I still can't believe you never told us about!" Sid burst out. "How do you just never mention in all this time that you're a member of the royal family?"

"I told you, that was what ownership and my parents agreed on. They didn't want any unnecessary publicity, either for us or for the team. So I wasn't allowed to tell you."

"Ok, but for _twelve years_?"

Flower sighed. "I never thought it was going to go on for so long. When I started, I was expecting to get recalled within a season, so I thought it wouldn't make much difference."

"I can't believe you," Sid repeated, but with more resignation.

"I am sorry," Flower said. "We had some good times, though, eh?"

Sid hummed into the phone. "When are we going to get to see you again? Can you come to any games?"

"I don't know. I've been given some assignments, and I'm going to need to show people that I'm staying focused, so I'm afraid it's going to be hard for me to get away for a while."

"Diplomatic assignments?"

"Something like that."

"Uh huh."

"Listen," Flower said, "I'm sending you something, in case of an emergency, all right? You'll have to be careful with it. But you can use it if you really need to."

"All right," Sid said, too sulky to try to find out exactly what Flower meant.

 

Three days later he got a notice about attempted delivery of a package. He would have to sign to receive the package, the notice said, and he couldn't just sign the slip and leave it on his door; he'd need to accept delivery in person.

"Fucking _Flower_ ," Sid said, still not feeling very charitable.

He had to wait till an off day to go in. When he finally did, the package that was handed over to him hardly seemed worth the wait. It was just a thin padded envelope, folded over once around an even smaller lump. Sid ripped through the outer wrappings and tugged at the layers of paper inside until something small and round fell into his lap. It was a ring: a signet ring, Sid realized, with a plain gold band and the three snowdrops of the royal crest embossed on its face. 

He begrudgingly acquitted Flower of having gone overboard on the signature requirement.

There was a note, too, in Flower's familiar scratchy handwriting. _Sorry I couldn't stick around,_ it said. _If something happens and you need to see me, this will get you into the palace. Be well, my friend. Write and let me know how you are doing._

Flower hadn't promised to write again himself, Sid thought. He probably didn't think he could guarantee it, if he was being sent away on diplomatic missions. Much more serious and important than playing hockey. 

Sid turned the ring over and over in his hands, staring at the stylized outlines of the flowers and the blades of their leaves.

 

Flower had left the keys to his Pittsburgh condo with Tanger so the guys could come by and take what they wanted from what he'd left behind. Tanger had taken the couch himself for his new basement rec room, and some of the rookies had taken the recliners and the gaming system and the dining table. 

Geno grabbed all the food left in the fridge and invited Sid over to eat the dinner that Anna cooked with it. The stew was delicious, and so was the wine Geno had pulled from Flower's pantry. Anna made cheerful conversation while they ate, congratulating Sid on their last win. After dinner, Sid lingered at the table while the murmur of Geno and Anna speaking Russian in the kitchen washed over him.

There was a picture of Flower on the royal family's official Instagram. Flower was wearing a natty dark suit and standing under a glittering golden chandelier with some of what Sid supposed must be his cousins.

Geno came back into the dining room and leaned over Sid's shoulder to snoop at his screen. 

"We post a picture too!" he said, socking Sid gently in the shoulder. He scrolled back to the shot Anna had taken of him and Sid toasting with their wine glasses over their overflowing plates and put it up with the hashtag _#eatinglikekings_. Tanger and Rusty liked it immediately, and more comments trickled in from other teammates and from Taylor overnight. There was nothing from anyone else.

 

Then the Pens headed out on the road. Partway through the trip, their itinerary took them to the capital, and Sid couldn't help fostering a little green sprout of hope. But no matter how often he looked up at the royal box during the game, it remained empty. 

Geno cuffed him on the side of the helmet. "Head in game, Sid!" he said. Sid went out and won the next faceoff, and the next after that, and they pulled out the win. Despite his best efforts, though, it felt thin somehow and inconsequential.

They had had an afternoon start time, so there was time after the game for a lavish team dinner. 

"Wanna split a car?" Phil asked Sid when things were winding down at the table. Sid shook his head.

"I think I'm gonna walk back," he said. "Clear my head."

It was a warm, clear night, and the streets were still fairly crowded. Sid walked two or three blocks in the direction of the hotel before he gave in to the impulse to turn and follow the waves of tourists toward the city center. He let his feet take him on winding paths through the royal park, till he ended up at the gates of the palace proper. 

The sun had long since gone down, but the fountains in the pools just inside the gates were lit up with colored spotlights from below, white and red and gold. Sid stood for a long time watching the play of the falling water.

Inside the pocket of his jacket, he curled his fingers tightly around Flower's ring.

The guards at the gates were standing in shadow, but though Sid couldn't see their faces he knew he was attracting more of their attention the longer he stood staring into the palace grounds. Eventually he took a deep breath and made himself turn away to retrace his steps back toward the hotel.


	3. 3

Sid was moping. He knew it, and he tried to stop, but nothing seemed to make him feel better anymore but calling Flower.

"I just miss you," Sid said a little desperately.

Flower hummed softly. "I know," he said. "Listen, I'm sending you something. You'll take good care of them, won't you?"

"Of course," Sid said.

 

The package got there faster than Sid had thought it could. Inside were twelve small flower bulbs. Flower hadn't provided much in the way of instructions, just a note that said _Call me_ , but Sid felt he had a general idea of what they might need. He went to the nursery and it wasn't hard at all to pick out the pot and the soil and the fertilizer. He knew the right ones when he saw them. He took them home and put everything together and then, one by one, he pressed the bulbs down into the soil. When he held the pot under the kitchen faucet to water them, there was a humming sound just at the edge of his hearing, like the singing of wires, or perhaps just the rushing of the water.

"Sid," Flower said when the call connected. His voice was low and sweet. "Did you get my package?"

"Yes," Sid said. "They're beautiful!" 

Flower laughed. "Yes," he agreed, "my beautiful children."

"What are they?" Sid asked. He couldn't help reaching out to touch the rich, damp surface of the soil.

Flower laughed again. "You'll find out."

 

The plants grew fast. The morning after their arrival, there were already small green spikes peering up out of the soil. Sid watched them while he ate breakfast, and he thought he could almost see them moving higher. He stroked one with his fingertip. It was smooth and glossy against his skin.

He looked up and realized he was almost late for practice. He jumped up and rushed to get out the door.

 

The Pens wrapped up their homestand and got ready to head out on the road. Sid worried about the plants, although Anna had offered to come by and water them while he was gone. He didn't like the idea of missing so many days with them. But there was no way around it.

Geno humored Sid's fretting with a look in his eyes that said Sid would be hearing plenty of chirps about it later on. Sid barreled ahead though, telling Geno to ask Anna for an update when she called while they were hanging out in Geno's room after dinner.

"She say plants doing well," Geno reported solemnly. "No problems."

"Have they grown a lot?" Sid pressed. Geno relayed the question; apparently they hadn't, at least not to any noticeable extent. Sid frowned. "They were going so fast before I left. I wonder what's going on."

He wouldn't say aloud to Geno that Anna might not be looking after them properly. He knew, if he really made himself think about it, that there was very little she could be doing wrong as long as she followed the watering schedule, but he couldn't shake the feeling that no one else could take better care of them than him.

"Maybe they waiting for you," Geno said. Sid gave him a look, and Geno burst out laughing.

 

If they had slowed down in his absence, the plants definitely started growing again with a vengeance once Sid was home. The stalks stood tall and straight, their edges almost sharp enough to cut. Sid spent a fair amount of time watching them. He wasn't listless like he had been before, missing Flower, but he was under the weather somehow, feeling worn and drained whenever he wasn't actually on the ice. The rich, vibrant green of the blades was so soothing to look at.

Sid dreamed that the plants had grown tall enough to stand under, broad blades of leaves and large bell-shaped blossoms hanging down from thick stems, white streaked and splotched with red. Flower leaned back against one of the stalks and gave Sid a wide, lazy smile.

"Hello, Sid," he said.

Sid woke up with a start, realizing he'd slumped over onto the kitchen table. He made himself get up and go upstairs to bed.

 

"You all right, Sid?" Tanger asked at practice. "You look kind of pale."

"Fine," Sid said. "Just didn't sleep well."

 

Vegas was tearing up the Western Conference, on a roll beyond anyone's expectations. Sid sometimes saw clips of Flower with his mask pulled back to show a sly grin. Sid pushed down the lump rising in his throat. The Pens weren't where he wanted them to be, but with enough hard work, they could change that. He resolved to go to bed earlier and not spend so much time in the kitchen zoning out at the plants.

It was hard not to look at them, though, when they finally had buds growing. The buds had started as small, close-curled knots, but they swelled as the days went on till they were heavy enough to bend their stems under their weight. Sid came straight home after every game and practice to check on them and see if they had bloomed. He hoped desperately that he'd be there to watch them when they opened, though he knew the odds were against him. He couldn't wait to see what they turned out to be.

He made himself go straight to bed one night after they'd gotten back to Pittsburgh on a late flight, with only one quick look at the plants. Nothing seemed to have changed while he was gone. 

But when he came down the stairs the next morning, there was a sweet, heady scent in the staircase. He breathed it in deeply, but though it felt familiar, he couldn't put a name to it. It was coming from the kitchen. He hurried down the hall and then paused in the open archway to stop and stare.

The flowers had bloomed during the night. Their large bells hung down from the graceful curves of the stems, still pure white with no red on them yet. Their scent was even thicker so close to the source, and Sid had to cough to clear his throat.

When the sound rang out into the silence of the kitchen, the flowers all swiveled around to look at him.


	4. 4

"I just miss you," Sid said. He meant to speak calmly and rationally, but his throat suddenly went thick and the words came out sounding desperate.

"Stop, Sid," Flower said. His voice was soft and terrible. "I can't hear this."

"I'm not—" Sid said, but he couldn't even make himself finish that sentence. It would have been a lie, and they both knew it. Sid hadn't actually been planning to ask again what he'd asked back in the craziness of June; he knew very well that that was out of bounds. But he still wanted to bring it up, to make Flower acknowledge him, to get a reaction somehow. He still wanted so much.

"Stop," Flower repeated. "I told you, I am with Véro. I have given her all my promises. I have nothing to give to you."

"I know. I know, and I get that, but can't you just—"

"No!" Flower said. "Look, Sid—" He paused to take and release a deep breath. "I think maybe we better not talk for a while. Give you a chance to put this behind you."

"You're cutting me out?" Sid said, shocked. "Just like that?"

Flower was silent for a minute. "I'm sending you something," he said. "So you will know I am not leaving you alone. But I am very serious now—I never want to hear this from you again."

"Flower—" Sid said. But by the time he had cleared his eyes and his throat, Flower had already hung up.

 

For the next few days, Sid went to practice and to skate and to the games in a blank haze. He felt embarrassed, guilty, angry, and lonely, sometimes in turns and sometimes all at once. Sometimes he couldn't believe Flower really meant to stop talking to him altogether. Sometimes he knew he deserved far worse.

"Sid, you ok?" Geno said to him when they were leaving the video room.

"Yeah, fine," Sid said. 

"You look tired."

"I said I'm fine."

Geno raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask any further.

 

The thought of Flower's radio silence was so overwhelming that Sid couldn't put much stock in the other last thing Flower had said. Sid had checked his texts and his email the next day, but there was nothing from Flower, not even in the spam folder, so he thought perhaps Flower had reconsidered. It ached a little, but he told himself he deserved that too.

Three days later a package arrived, a medium-sized padded envelope, and Sid caught his breath when he saw the address in Flower's handwriting. His heart pounding, he opened the outer envelope and pulled out a small paper bag and a card.

The card said, _I love you, my friend. Don't call me._

Sid put his head down on his forearms on the countertop and tried to blink away his tears.

When he lifted his head again, at first he pushed the paper bag away from himself. If Flower would accept nothing from him, he would accept nothing from Flower. But a minute later the bag seemed terribly precious and he drew it toward himself just as eagerly. Inside it were a dozen small flower bulbs. 

Sid stared at them, stumped. He supposed the thing to do would be to plant them, but he had no clue where or how. He couldn't even tell what kind of flower they were. He shoved them away once more and went to get ready for practice.

After practice he stopped at a home and gardening center. The employee he talked to was friendly at first, but he could tell she was getting increasingly impatient the more his ignorance of what he needed was revealed. He hadn't even thought to bring the bulbs with him. Finally he left with a pot and a bag of soil and a rather thin smile wishing him luck.

When he got home, he filled the pot with soil and then sat looking at the bulbs trying to figure out which way to put them into it. He thought the hairy parts might be roots, so he angled those downward, but he wasn't entirely sure, so he put a few in the opposite direction too. When all the bulbs were in he sat and looked at the dark surface of the soil until it occurred to him to water it. He carried the pot over to the sink and turned on the faucet, and realized he also didn't know how much water these plants needed. While he was stuck on that, water started flowing out the bottom of the pot again, so he shut the faucet off and lugged the pot over to a spot on the windowsill. That would have to do.

He wanted to send Flower a photo of the pot, but he knew he must not. He curled his hands till the edges of his nails bit into the base of his palms.

 

After some weeks, a few green spikes began to poke up out of the pot. They looked a little pale to Sid, but perhaps that was normal for them.

The Pens went out on the road, and Sid asked Geno to ask Anna if she'd come by to do the watering while he was gone. 

"Since when you have plants?" Geno asked.

"I can have plants," Sid muttered.

"Sure," Geno said. 

Sid went over to distract himself in Geno's room after dinner one night, listening to Geno talk to Anna on the phone. His voice sounded warm and fond, even though Sid couldn't follow what he was saying.

"Uh, Sid," Geno said after hanging up, "she went to your house but she didn't give plants more water, dirt still very wet. Maybe you put too much water before."

"Oh," Sid said. "Um, thanks. Tell her thanks for me." _Too much, too much, too much,_ he thought. Even in this, he'd overstepped again.

 

When he got home, he saw that the plants did look a little stronger. Several of them had even formed little buds, though none had opened yet. He shook his head and dragged himself upstairs.

In the morning, when he came downstairs to the early sun shining into the kitchen, the flowers had bloomed, little white bells hanging down from the ends of their stems. Sid realized he had seen this kind before—snowdrops, that was what they were called. 

He choked down the hot wave threatening to rise in his throat. The snowdrops were small and pale and cool and contained, and they were all that Flower was ever going to give him.


	5. 5

"I just miss you," Sid said, not quite able to keep the growl out of his voice.

" _Sid_ ," Flower said. He had better control; his voice was low, but still fully human. 

Sid kept quiet for fear of letting go any further.

"I'm sending you something," Flower said finally. "Take care and make it last, all right?"

"All right," Sid got out.

 

Flower's package arrived two days later, in a heavily taped padded envelope. Sid had to pause after he opened it because of the wave of Flower's scent that hit him, the smell of pack and care and belonging. Once he'd breathed through that, Sid unraveled the layers of paper, grateful for Flower's forethought to insulate his gift from the plastic of the outer envelope. It was a shirt—no, a shirsey, an old one, with the penguin on the front and _FLEURY 29_ emblazoned across the back. Flower must have worn it at a practice or a workout; it was drenched in him. Sid pressed his face into the cloth and breathed in. 

Then he fumbled the shirt back into the paper wrappings, carried it upstairs, and laid it carefully away in his dresser. There were still two weeks until the next full moon, and he would need it even more then.

 

It was odd to remember that wolves had nearly been the majority on the Pens, not so long ago. In Sid's rookie year, he'd never lacked for packmates to run with at the moon. But their numbers had dwindled, through trades and retirements, till it was just Sid and Flower meeting in Sid's back yard. Flower had been his rock, his mainstay. And now Sid was on his own. Sometimes he looked up and saw Tanger wheeling through the sky above him, and sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of Anna's hulking shape in the distance and smell her scent on the trees she'd scratched her back on, so he wasn't entirely alone while he was running. But no one curled up with him to sleep when he came home.

The team went out on the road the next week. Sid left Flower's shirt behind, but though he knew it would be right there waiting for him when he got back, he couldn't help feeling antsy about it. 

"Why you squirm so much, Sid?" Geno asked him one night after dinner, when they were hanging out in Geno's room.

Sid frowned and tried to make himself settle. "Full moon's coming," he said shortly.

"Moon every month, but you don't do this every month."

"I've got something extra this time," Sid confessed. Geno raised his eyebrows, and Sid told him about how he'd whined to Flower, how he'd been hoarding Flower's gift, and how a corner of his brain wouldn't stop worrying about whether it was safe.

"You want Anna to go to your house and check on it? Send you picture?" Geno said finally. He sounded earnest, but Sid was sure he was chirping. 

"No, no," Sid said. "I'll be fine."

 

For the first time since the summer, he was almost looking forward to the moon. He got the blankets out of the hall closet and arranged them on the floor in front of the couch, filled his water bowl, and turned the heat up a bit. He stripped quickly, piling his hoodie and sweatpants on a corner of the couch. Then he went upstairs to get Flower's shirt and laid it in the very center of the blanket nest. 

When everything was ready, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and listened for the moon. When he heard it, he dropped down onto his paws.

Running was always a clean joy. He bounded out to the edge of the trees, nosed all around the borders of the back yard, then dashed off deeper into the common forest. He did wish for the pack, but the sheer pleasure of unrestricted motion was uppermost in his mind. At one point he saw wings beating far overhead, but he couldn't tell for sure if that was Tanger.

When the moon began to set, Sid turned back toward the house. He didn't retrace his steps exactly, but loped a meandering path through the trees. When he finally got to his own yard, he leaped the fence, ran up the stairs to the deck, and nudged his way through the flap to get inside. He drank noisily, nearly emptying the bowl. Then he stepped onto the blankets and curled up.

Everything smelled right. He was still alone, and not as warm as he would have been in real pack pileup, but the blanket nest smelled just as it should and it was suddenly easy to relax and fall into sleep.

 

In the morning Sid wrapped Flower's shirt up again and put it away neatly in its drawer. He felt better this time, actually refreshed for once. He drove in to the practice rink early and got in some work on his wrist shots before everyone else got on the ice.

 

When the next full moon came, Sid set everything up in the living room and then bounded outside to run. It was a little rainy and the forest was full of complex smells rising from the damp earth. Sid loved it, but he also found himself looking forward the whole time to going home again, too. 

But when he got back and settled on his blankets, the pack scent was weaker than he expected, diluted and somewhat stale. He curled himself as tightly around Flower's shirt as he could and nuzzled his nose into one of the sleeves.

 

The month after that, the scent was nearly gone.

 

"Sorry, Sid," Flower said. "I gave away most of my Pens stuff before I left. I wanted a fresh start, you know? And I figured I wouldn't need it here."

"It doesn't have to be a Pens thing," Sid said quickly. "Anything would be ok—anything you could spare—"

"It wouldn't work," Flower said gently. "Anything I wear now won't smell right for you anymore. It would just smell like the pack here. I really wish I could help, but I don't think there's anything I can do."

Sid made himself smile. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Now tell me about your kids!"

 

He still put the shirt out along with his other things at the next full moon, but when he got back from running, the blankets smelled as cold and blank as a field of snow.


	6. +1

"I just miss you," Sid said.

Flower's face twisted up on the screen of Sid's laptop, and then he laughed out loud. Sid frowned and stared down at his own hands. 

"Sid," Flower said, warm and low. Sid scowled harder. "Sid, look, I'm sending you something."

"I'll watch the mail," Sid said.

"No—watch _me_. Right now."

Sid looked up reluctantly. Flower still had a smile on his face, but it was smaller and more gentle than his laugh had been. When he saw that Sid was looking, he touched his fingers to his lips and blew Sid the kiss.

A burst of warmth blossomed in Sid's chest. He put his hand up to catch the kiss and pressed it to his heart.


End file.
